iTalk
by amandajbruce
Summary: When Sam Puckett is assigned to therapy in juvenile court, she figures it's just another hurdle in her completely unfair life. But maybe, it's progress.
1. Chapter 1

**iTalk****  
**The story of Sam Puckett's therapy sessions.

* * *

"So... Samantha, your file here says you're twelve?"

"Yep."

"This is quite a thick file for a twelve-year-old girl."

"That's what they tell me."

A silence descended on the two occupants of the room. The younger of the two, her eyes darting everywhere but at the person across from her, tried to appear bored by lounging against the arm of the sofa, but her rapidly kicking foot that banged into the leg of the table every so often betrayed her anxiety. She gritted her teeth and tapped her fingers on one knee, every so often poking her finger through the hole in her jeans. This was not how Samantha Puckett wanted to spend her next six months worth of Mondays. Not at all.

What Samantha Puckett wanted to be doing was going to the Groovy Smoothie after school, getting her best friend to give her the answers to the math homework so she wouldn't have to do it herself later. Or indulging in a large pack of fat cakes. Or playing with her three legged cat. Or letting her sister style her normally tangled and all around unkempt blond hair while she was home. Or sticking her finger in an electrical socket. Or taking long walks off of short piers. Really, she'd pretty much rather be doing anything else.

But Samantha Puckett had made one mistake too many. At least, that's what her court appointed lawyer had said to her with a snide grin while he tried, for the twelfth time, to straighten his mustard yellow tie. He hadn't liked the little girl since her mother had dumped him for that newspaper reporter a couple of months back.

"So, tell me Samantha," the older occupant, her legs crossed as she leaned back in her own chair, remarked casually, "why are you here?" She had a kind expression on her face, but she was trained to get kids to open up. As she waited for the response to come, she tucked a strand of her chin length, stick straight, red hair behind her ear, and trained her bright green eyes on the girl in front of her.

"What's the matter with you, lady? Didn't you get the same paperwork I did? The judge ordered me here!" She barely refrained from adding on a "duh," and used one hand to tug impatiently on a particularly stubborn blond curl that kept making its way into her line of sight.

"Yes, I know that. I meant, why do you think the judge ordered you here? He could have given you some community service. Or he could have sent you to a detention center." The woman had a yellow legal pad propped on her knee, her pen poised above it. The very thick file she had spoken of was wedged against her side, down in the seat, where she thought the young girl wouldn't try to grab it. They all wanted to see their files. It never failed. She had learned the hard way to keep it close to her.

"Like you said, I've got a thick file." Samantha pursed her lips, almost in a pout.

The silence descended again, interrupted every so often by the scratching of the pen on the legal pad or the collision of the girl's foot with the table leg and barely stifled sighs by both of them.

"Alright, Samantha, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Isn't it all in my file?"

"I want to hear it from you."

"Whadya wanna know?"

"Well, what would you like me to know?"

They sat there staring at one another for a few moments before the tiny girl flinging her foot against the coffee table finally gave a groan and bit out, "don't call me Samantha. I'm Sam. Nobody calls me Samantha if they wanna keep their thumbs."

"Sam. Noted." And she scribbled a little on the legal pad to make her point, though she didn't look the least bit intimidated at the prospect of losing a thumb or two. "Well, I'm Dr. Perkins, but you already know that."

"Do I have to call you Doctor?"

"Not if you don't want to."

Sam was quiet again, even stilling the kicking of her foot, and she glanced down at the coffee table. There was a plastic jar there, full of jellybeans. She kept her eyes on it as she asked, "What's your first name?"

"Josephine, but patients don't call me that."

Sam nodded and her mouth quirked up in a slight grin. "Okay, Jo, let me get this straight. All I gotta do is tell you all about my screwed up life for the next six months, and you'll get the charges dropped?"

"Maybe. Depends on how much progress you make." Dr. Perkins didn't comment on the nickname.

"Can I have a jellybean?"

"Sure."

Quickly unscrewing the lid, Sam poured out a pile of jellybeans on the table and proceeded to toss them into her mouth one at a time. She did it with the air of someone who was used to playing with her food, full of easy confidence and relish.

"I thought you just wanted one," Dr. Perkins said with a wry smile.

"Carly says it's rude to ask for the whole thing."

"And who is Carly?"

"My best friend." Sam tossed a purple jellybean into the air and caught it expertly on the tip of her tongue. She didn't miss the raised eyebrow from her new shrink. "And she's not the invisible kind."

"I in no way suggested she was invisible."

"Everybody does at some point." Sam dismissed the statement with a wave of her hand, as if the idea of people accusing her of making up her friends was no big deal. " I got a crazy mom, a goody two shoes sister, and I don't remember my dad. Anything else you need to know?"

Though she did want to get Sam talking, the psychologist could hear the hostility increasing throughout each of Sam's sentences. "That... seems good for now." Dr. Perkins made another note on her paper, though she could still see when Sam rolled her eyes. "Why don't we start with something more... neutral? How was school today?"

"Fine." Sam immediately tossed another jellybean in her mouth and resumed her foot kicking.

"Learn anything interesting?"

With a shrug Sam remarked, "the boys' bathroom has more interesting graffiti than the girls'."

There was a pause then while Dr. Perkins bit down on the end of her pen. It was almost like she was trying not to laugh. Sam waited, trying to gauge her reaction. Adults didn't usually like it when girls were in the boys' bathroom, and she was fully prepared to rebuff a lecture.

"What," the doctor asked after watching Sam eat a few more jellybeans, "what exactly were you doing in the boys bathroom?"

Sam chewed thoughtfully, then asked, "if I tell you I did something illegal, do you have to tell the judge?"

"Well..." For the first time, Dr. Perkins looked a little uncomfortable. "I am supposed to, but... why don't we agree that if it can be classified as a misdemeanor, it can stay just between us? I won't make the same deal for felonies though."

"Okay, cool." Tossing another candy up in the air, but missing it, Sam made a noise in the back of her throat noting her frustration. She began a thorough search of the couch for the missing bean while she spoke. "I followed this guy in there." She picked up a pillow and looked behind it. "He was bothering Carly at lunch." Setting the pillow back down, Sam reached between the two cushions before retrieving the bright pink jelly bean in triumph. "I was just gonna warn him, but he said some things, and I said some things, and then..." She popped the candy in her mouth, couch fuzz and all. "I might have punched him in the face and I might have said that I'd cut off important parts of his anatomy if he bothered Carly again. And I might have left him in there with a bleeding nose while I went to get a fat cake out of my locker."

"I see." Dr. Perkins made a few more notes on her pad, nodding her head, keeping her expression blank.

"The jerk deserved it though. Don't worry. I don't beat up _innocent _people. Usually... And I'm pretty sure he won't mess with Carly anymore." Sam's eyes flicked from the doctor to the jar of jellybeans again. She had gone through the whole pile she had poured out already.

"Go ahead." The therapist made a gesture toward the plastic jar with her pen. "You're my last appointment today, so no one's going to be looking for them later." That seemed to be all the encouragement Sam needed, as she poured the sweets onto the table top and began to ingest the candy by handfuls. Waiting until Sam had a good amount of candy in her system, Dr. Perkins added, "do you beat up people often?"

"Depends on what you mean by often..." she responded thickly through a mouthful of candy.

"Every day?"

"Nah."

"Every two days?"

"Probably." Sam gave a shrug and started arranging some of the jelly beans in patterns on the table. She grouped all of the purple and pink ones together, then all the yellow and green, and then all the blue and red. She left the black and white ones in their own piles, then meticulously began arranging them in some sort of picture while she spoke. "Ya have to understand though. I only beat people up when they're mean to me, or mean to Carly, or they talk about my family, or they get in my way, or they walk too slow down the hallway, or if they take the last fat cake at the convenience store..." Sam trailed off, biting down on her lower lip while she nimbly moved pieces of candy around on the table.

"That all sounds fairly reasonable," Dr. Perkings encouraged, making a few more scribbles on her notepad.

"I know, right? You'd think Briggs would get that some people are just too stupid to not get beat up. But, no."

"Briggs?"

"She's one of the teachers. A total nutbar. And she's always giving me detention."

"Well, that is part of her job."

"Yeah, yeah." Waving away the therapist's words like she did with so many of the other comments made earlier, Sam began to move the candy pieces around faster, not even glancing up from them to say, "we're gonna have to wrap this up soon. My mom's got an appointment with her plastic surgeon, and if I'm not home before she leaves for LA, she won't remember to pay the water bill on her way out of town."

"Oh, I see." Hiding a smirk, Dr. Perkins nodded her head emphatically, but she stopped when Sam looked up and rolled her eyes.

"I know, you think I'm lying. Trust me, if you meet my mom, you'll understand." Sam gobbled down another handful of jellybeans, leaving the rest in tact on the table. "Same time next week, right Jo?"

"Right, Sam."

Standing up awkwardly from the couch, Sam gave a nod and grabbed her backpack off the floor where she had tossed it on her entrance. She was just in time too. As she opened the door to the office's waiting room, there was a loud "SAM!" from outside the building, followed by a car horn.

"Huh," Sam muttered to herself, "she remembered to pick me up. Guess I didn't need the bus tokens. Oh, well." She shrugged and half jogged from the room.

Dr. Perkins watched her exit, her interest conveyed in her furrowed brow and pursed lips. When she cupped her chin, she was every inch the clichéd intellectual deep in thought. Making a few more notations, Dr. Perkins reached for her voice recorder and clicked the button. "Flagrant disregard for conventional rules aside, Patient 4949 exhibits no obvious signs of psychotic behavior, contrary to the arresting officer's opinion. However, further investigation is needed into family life and friends, possible abandonment issues there. Also, dependence on food during discomfort may segue into more dangerous substances, must find a way to casually tap into possible addiction issues. Subject exhibits signals of hostile behavior when pressed too hard. Must find topics of interest to instigate communication." Frowning, the good doctor leaned forward in her seat and surveyed Sam's make shift work of art on the coffee table. It was a pretty good likeness for the doctor's face. No mean feat since the little girl had only glanced up at her a few times during the entire session. "Possible interest in art may provide an outlet for pent up frustration." She clicked the recorder off and walked the file labeled 'Puckett, Samantha' to her locked filing cabinet.

It wasn't lost on her that Samantha Puckett was the first patient to ask her for her first name during their first session, and she was the only one who did not even chance a look in the direction of her file, not once.

* * *

Word Count: 2265

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**A/N: I thought doing fanfic this year for NaNoWriMo would keep me motivated. Hopefully, I'm actually able to finish this by the end of the month. I warn you that the chapters will likely vary greatly in length. Some will have specific events from the show in them, and those will probably get to be more detailed. Also, as Sam gets to know her therapist, she'll start talking a lot more. And I'm currently working on an outline now that I have a general idea of where I want to go with this, because I don't plan on posting a new chapter everyday. I don't plan on this being thirty chapters, so even though it might look like I'm not writing everyday, rest assured, I will be. Feel free to provide me with feedback :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Sam took the steps down from the city bus so slowly, she was sure the bus driver was going to yell at her. But, he didn't. Just patiently let her take her sweet time. She was barely clear of the doors though before they clapped shut and he sped off to the next stop.

"Hey," she called, "you could have run me over!" With a scoff followed by a slight growl, the tiny twelve-year-old pulled her backpack up onto her shoulder and began the trudge up to the office building that held her brand new shrink.

Okay, she wasn't exactly brand new. This was, after all, Sam's fourth appointment. Which meant she and Jo had known each other for a whole month now. That was longer than most of Sam's mother's relationships. Sam just wasn't looking forward to this meeting. So far, her sessions had been relatively easy to get through and out of. Sam hadn't had to stay for a full session yet. Her first one, her mom was leaving for LA. Her second one, she'd had detention and hadn't shown up until half way through. Her third, she'd had Carly fake an emergency and call to get her out of it. But now, after all of Carly's complaints about feeling guilty, she was going to have to do the full hour.

An entire hour where she had to talk to this woman about... whatever. She'd manage to keep the conversations on the downside of school, the upside of fat cakes, and the reason she'd been arrested, which were actually all related topics now that she was thinking about it. If the kid Connor hadn't bought the last fat cake while she was skipping her boring math class, she wouldn't have demanded he give it to her. And if he had simply given it to her, she wouldn't have had to punch him in the face and fracture his wrist to procure the fat cakey goodness. And if Connor's dad hadn't been a cop... well, you get the idea.

Surveying the landscape around the office building where there were no cracked sidewalks, the trees were nicely trimmed, and the garbage was actually in the garbage cans, Sam couldn't help but think how different this place was from the neighborhood where she lived. It was like the two different halves of Seattle may as well have been two different planets. This neighborhood was even nicer than Carly's. Taking in a deep breath, she paused to glare at a guy in a suit and tie walking by her, then she pushed open the glass door, breezed by the receptionist, and pressed the up button on the elevator.

_Hmmm... maybe I can make the elevator stall so I won't have to go right away. Good plan, Sam. What are you gonna do while you're stuck in there? Got any snacks in your bag?_

Her stomach growled in response to her inner conflict and she waited impatiently for the ding that would allow the elevator doors to open. It was going to be, she was almost positive, a very long afternoon.

-o-

Josephine Perkins, on the other hand, sat in her chair, legs crossed, yellow legal pad propped on one knee, and sipped from a cup of coffee. Caffeine, she knew, was a crutch that she used to help her get through long days, though she also knew it didn't really help her get through anything. But Mondays were her longest day, the first day of the work week, and the one filled with the most patients. And five of her patients happened to be court appointed ones. And they all tended to do everything they could to avoid coming to see her.

Today, Samantha was only running a few minutes late... so far.

She would inform Samantha, just as she had the rest, that if she didn't complete her assigned number of hours, there would be nothing she could do to help her with that ugly blemish on her juvenile record. Not that Samantha seemed to care one way or the other about her juvenile record. The girl still hadn't made any attempt to look at it the last two sessions, and Dr. Perkins no longer needed it out during sessions to check her facts. Mainly because what they were going to start discussing wasn't going to be in the records kept by police officers and social workers.

Today, Josephine Perkins was determined to get Samantha Puckett to talk about something, anything, that actually had some sort of psychological relevance.

The buzzer from the outer office sounded, alerting Dr. Perkins to the fact that someone was in the waiting room, but before she could even place a finger on the intercom button to see who it was, the door opened with a soft click, and Sam was thumping her backpack down on the floor. Sam rushed to start speaking before she could ask her just how she got the door open as well.

"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm late, but I did have to reschedule detention for tomorrow, and the bus was running behind schedule, alright?"

"Of course, Sam. Understood." Dr. Perkins gestured to the couch for Sam to take her customary seat. Once she flopped down, feet up on the coffee table, hair splayed wildly behind her on the cushions, the doctor added, as if simply an observation, "I'm fairly certain my office door stays locked from the outside."

"Fairly?" Sam snorted. "I thought we were supposed to be straight with each other, Doc. You keep the door locked all the time?" When Josephine gave a nod, confirming that she did indeed keep the door locked at all times (it was, after all, for the privacy of her patients), Sam rolled her eyes and snapped, "just ask, then."

"How did you get the door open, Sam?" Her pen was still poised over her legal pad, ready to take notes.

"Picked the lock with a hair pin." Sam smiled her typical self satisfied smile, then looked around for the jar of candy that was always sitting on the table. It appeared to be missing. Her smile dropped, almost imperceptibly.

"I didn't know you wore hair pins." Scratch, scratch, scratch, went the pen on the paper.

"Don't. Not usually." Sam shrugged. "Usually have one in my pocket though, just in case. Comes in handy if I can't get in or out somewhere. Plus, some of the nubs at school figured out that I can get into just about any combination lock, so..."

"How'd you learn to do that?"

"My Uncle Carmine's good with his hands. He worked as a locksmith for a while." Sam's eyes roamed the room. She knew the jar had to be around here somewhere. "Got anything to eat? I haven't had anything since Carly's half a PB&J at lunch."

_Food. Again. _Josephine underscored the words on her notepad repeatedly. Usually, the little girl in front of her was all too eager to talk about her abilities, even if they were related to illegal activities. It was surprising that her lock picking prowess was met with an insistence for a treat. The doctor gestured to the shelf where some of the coloring books she kept for her younger patients were housed. The jar sat there, just to the left of the couch.

Sam was so eager to grab the snack, she had already retrieved the jar and sat back down, unscrewed the lid, and had a hand of food half way to her mouth before her eyes narrowed. "What is this chizz?" She eyed the jar suspiciously, shaking it, listening to the contents clink around, and even sniffed what was in her hand for good measure.

Subduing a chuckle, Dr. Perkins informed her, "trail mix. I've run out of candy." Really, it was more of an experiment. She had been changing the contents of the jar every week, just to see what Sam's reaction would be, if it was only the corn syrup and sugar that she was craving.

Shrugging, Sam downed a handful of raisins, almonds, granola, and dried bananas as though she were a hiker eating breakfast before a rigorous climb. "Not bad, Jo, not bad."

"It's my favorite trail mix. I usually take it camping with me."

_Healthier foods might be a good option. Possible lack of food at home, not really an avoidance issue? Further research._

"You like to go camping?" Even if Sam's voice hadn't gone up about an octave, her wide eyes and smiling face would have been a good indicator of her surprise. She laughed a little. "Jo, I don't think I could ever picture you roughing it."

"Well, just like there are a lot of things I don't know about you, there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Sam nodded, crunching on a few almonds. "How about we make a deal, Jo? It's kind of boring, me just talking. If I tell you stuff, you should tell me stuff too."

Hesitating, Dr. Perkins cocked her head to one side, unconsciously imitating the sixth grader in front of her. "That isn't really how therapy works, Sam."

"Maybe more people would talk if they didn't think it was so one sided." Sam's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink while she spoke, and she looked back down at the jar in her lap. "Want an almond?" She held out the jar, not looking the therapist in the eye when she did it.

And Josephine Perkins, though she wouldn't have believed it possible, recognized the peace offering for what it was, took an almond, and told Sam about the very first time she went camping. She was six years old, and went with her dad, just the two of them, and she got lost in the woods in the middle of the night.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you more if you tell me about learning to pick locks," the doctor countered, her voice neutral, but her face smiling.

Sam returned with a slight smile of her own, "the Puckett family isn't really on the straight and narrow, you know? So, I don't want you getting anybody in trouble, okay?" Once satisfied that her therapist wouldn't be notifying the authorities about anything anyone else in her family did, Sam recounted the day Uncle Carmine taught her how to pick a lock. "When we were little, me and Mel, and we couldn't take care of ourselves, my mom used to have Carmine come stay with us on the weekends when she would go out of town. Mel usually just ignored him. She would do homework, lock herself in her room, and read for the whole weekend. He would always have people over, and they'd stay up late, talkin' and drinkin' in the kitchen. I just..." Sam shrugged, not wanting to admit it, even after striking up her deal. "I don't like to be left out, you know? I always wanted to stay up late with them too, get to eat pizza and drink soda all night. It looked like they were having fun. Uncle C told me I could if I get beat him at getting his special suit case open." Sam laughed now, a genuine laugh, with her head thrown back and her shoulders shaking. "He probably didn't think I could do it, but you know, I've always been his favorite, cause I don't take no chizz from anyone. He showed me how once, taking one of Mel's hair pins from the bowl on the table, and putting it in the lock. He kind of twisted it, just a little bit to the right, then pushed it up and pulled back, and snap! It only took him about forty seconds, maybe." Sam paused again to watch the doctor.

Josephine wasn't looking at her, instead writing _Carmine – possible father figure in place of absentee?_

"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it, but I learn fast. I just have bad grades cause school is boring. You don't learn the good stuff there."

"Sam?" Dr. Perkins looked up, puzzled at the admission.

"I'm tellin' you that so you know that when I say I got the suitcase open in half the time, I'm not lyin'."

"On your first try?"

"Yep."

"I bet that impressed your uncle."

Scarfing down another handful of of trail mix, she mumbled, "I guess. He kind of patted me on the head, and let me watch TV with them. They just watched the news." She shrugged again, chewing thoughtfully. "My cousin Gino thought I'd done it before."

"I see."

_Trust issues within the family _was added to the notepad.

"So what happened when you got lost in the woods?" Sam was quick to turn the conversation back around, eager to make sure their bargain stayed in tact.

Josephine propped her pen over one ear, trying to show Sam that this was a conversation, that she didn't have to take notes on her the entire time. "I wandered around for about an hour before my flashlight went out, and I sat down, right where it died, and I waited until my dad found me. It felt like it was all night, but it was only about another hour. I was cold and terrified though. I didn't like being alone in the dark. I was afraid of the dark when I was little."

"Hmm. So was my sister." Sam shrugged again. It was becoming her go-to response when she couldn't think of anything else to say. She was trying not to snap at this woman, trying not to be too rude. Jo could have her put back in juvie if she wanted to, and Sam had promised Carly that she wouldn't go back any time in the near future.

"So, you can get into combination locks to, no problem?" Dr. Perkins cocked an eyebrow at Sam.

"Why, you got a locker you need to get into? Sam joked. She nodded though. "Combination locks are easier. You just gotta listen for the clicks."

"I see. The clicks." She nodded as though she understood, and Sam rolled her eyes indulgently.

"You know, combination locks have all those tumblers in them that line up when you get to the right number. They click in place. If you listen, you can hear the click."

Josephine nodded her head in understanding, just as the timer went off signaling the end of the session.

"Looks like we're out of time, Doc. See you next week." Sam was up, off the couch, and out the door with her backpack before Dr. Perkins could even say goodbye.

_Much smarter than she wants people to think _was the last notation of the day.

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Word Count: 2506

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**A/N: I appear to be on a bit of a role. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I haven't written anything novel length in a while, and I was ready to get back in to it. This chapter was supposed to be something completely different, but the lock picking story kind of took over. Haha. There will be appearances from some series regulars in the near future... as long as these smaller plot points don't get away from me. And we'll see a time jump soon too.**


	3. Chapter 3

Twelve minutes.

Josephine Perkins was not an impatient woman. She had plenty of training in listening skills, in how powerful silence could be when you were sitting with someone who needed help, and she had always been the kind of person who could quietly _think _without interruption. But right now, as the hands on the clock ticked by and the rain fell outside, she was beginning to be just a little bit _irked. _

She thought after their last few sessions Samantha Puckett would be done with all of this stalling and excuses. She thought that she would be able to actually have the little girl open up to her, maybe get to the root of whatever was causing her anger issues, keep her out of a juvenile detention facility for a while. Apparently, even though she had years of school and training, and even practical work with patients under her belt, she was sorely mistaken.

Tapping her pen on the yellow sheets of paper in front her, Josephine sighed in frustration. The tapping of her pen was beginning to keep time with the rain pattering on her window, and it was going to give her a headache. She just knew it.

Fifteen minutes.

She made a hasty attempt to call the young girl on her cell phone, but it just rang and rang, never even connecting all the way to a voice mail box. She quit dialing after the third try. Seattle rainstorms could interfere with the signal, she supposed, but that was really no excuse. If Samantha was going to be late, she was supposed to let her know. She could have rescheduled.

Seventeen Minutes.

There was a squelching sound from somewhere beyond the door to her office, and just like the last week, there was a soft click, and the doorknob turned without anyone buzzing.

"You're-"

"Late. Yeah, yeah. I had detention again." Sam made no effort to apologize, just plopped down on the couch like it was her own, wringing her hair out over the carpet. Her usually dark golden locks were an odd shade of brown from the moisture. A puddle was already forming under her feet. "Got any towels or anything?"

"All I keep in the office is a box of tissues." Tissues were for the emotional ones, typically teenage girls who came to her after getting arrested for drug abuse, girls left with eating disorders and daddy issues. She didn't get too many of them. Very few tissues were used in her office. The blue vase on her shelf had been shattered and put back together six times though. And she had gone through quite a few picture frames before she stopped keeping personal photos on her desk.

Sam dumped out the contents of her backpack, and there was the cell phone, completely soaked though, and needing a cup of rice to dry out in. Sam tossed it to the side, found a hoodie, discovered it was wet too, and dropped it on the floor. "All the money the state pays you, you can get this rug cleaned anyway." To punctuate her statement, Sam wrenched her shoes from her feet, then slowly peeled off her socks.

Dr. Perkins suppressed her annoyance with an easy "what would you like to talk about today, Sam?"

Sam didn't answer, and she hid her face behind a curtain of wet hair while wringing her socks over the same patch of floor as she had her hair. The doctor was used to being tested by her patients, especially those she was assigned from the juvenile court system, but she had never had a patient like Sam who seemed to go back and forth from one extreme to the other in such short time. As soon as they started making progress, something would set her off, and she would revert back to her tactics of the very first session.

"How about we talk about what landed you in detention?"

"Eh, just the usual; I may have beat up a nub." Sam still kept her face hidden.

"May have? I thought you wanted us to be straight with one another, is that what you called it?" Josephine jotted down the word _nub _and followed it up with a question mark. It was an unusual word. Bully, dork, idiot, nerd, jock... there were all kinds of words used to describe people in junior high. Nub seemed unusual. It sounded like something an older generation might have used. Maybe it was part of the local lingo. Either way, it was definitely a different term from anything she had heard from her other patients. Her other teenage patients tended to have much more colorful language than Samantha Puckett.

"Yeah, yeah." Waving off the probing questions, Sam surveyed the room, looking for the usual jar of snacks, but it was nowhere to be seen. She would have asked for the food, but she had a feeling that might be pushing her luck today. And she was the kind of girl who knew how far she could push before something, or someone, went over the edge.

Sam sighed, tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, and leaned back, her fingers tapping out a rhythm on the arm of the couch that was in direct contrast with the rain. _Dropdrop tap. Dropdrop tap. _It might have been the sign of some sort of musical talent in addition to the artistic talent the doctor had yet to explore with her.

"Yeah, so a nub got on my nerves, and I smacked him around a little, no big deal. It's not like I did any permanent damage. And it's not like he didn't deserve it." She stared at the ceiling, her breathing slow and steady. Either she was attempting to prove how calm she was about this whole thing, that it really was no big deal; or the rain was lulling her to sleep. _Dropdrop tap. Dropdrop tap. _

"Right. You only beat people up who deserve it. How did he deserve it?"

"He's a nub," Sam said flatly, sparing a glance in the doctor's direction. Josephine's face was carefully blank, and Sam knew her answer was likely unsatisfying to the doctor. "He does nubby things in his nubby clothes with his nubby little friends... and he's just annoying." _Dropdrop taptap. Dropdrop taptap._

"Specifics are good, Sam."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you need specifics?" She sat up straight, crossed her arms over her chest, and watched Josephine jot down a few more notes on her legal pad. "You want to find out if I'm homicidal or something? I'm not."

"I never said you were." Josephine's patience was wearing thin today, and so was her encouraging smile.

Maybe Sam sensed that because she stopped pushing for information. Instead, she gave another sigh, and her fingers dug into the long sleeves of her t-shirt.

"He's just another nub, I guess, but he's more annoying than the others." The tips of her fingers drummed on her arms before she leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling again.

"How so?" It was fascinating that Sam could usually give you a million reasons why she disliked something, usually leading off with it being stupid; but she had trouble explaining why one classmate bothered her so much.

"It's like... Nubs are dorks, you know? They talk about their science and they play their stupid games and stuff, but he's like... their king or something. And he's good with computers, but he rubs it in everyone's face, making sure everyone knows all the cool stuff he can do. And he's so polite to all the teachers. And he eats his gross vegetables. And he's always knocking on Carly's door, telling her about something stupid one of the neighbors did, or pretending he forgot his homework. And he even tries to carry Carly's stuff for her at school, check over her homework for her. Ugh. _He's just always around._" Sam groaned.

"Sounds like he's crowding you." _Territorial. Not used to outside attention. Sharing? _

"Yeah." Sam's tone shifted. She sounded more hopeful than angry now, as if anticipating a future nugget of wisdom from the woman on the other side of the table.

"You said he's around Carly a lot too?" Josephine tried to make her tone one of idle curiosity so Sam's defenses wouldn't go up right away.

"Uh huh." Her eyes stayed on the ceiling.

"How does Carly react to him being around all the time?"

"Oh, you know Carly... she's nice to everyone. Even when she snaps at him, he thinks it's cute. She just tells him no whenever he asks her to do anything... I told him she's never gonna love him, and he just keeps coming back for more."

"You think maybe you don't like him because of how focused he is on Carly?"

"What do you mean?" Sam's eyes blinked rapidly, the way the light would flash on a computer when it was powering up.

"Maybe you're worried Carly will want to be friends with him too, and you won't get to spend as much time with her," Dr. Perkins explained gently.

There was a pause. It was brief, but for someone of the lightning quick comebacks, it was noticeable. "Oh please, even Carly wouldn't hang out with the nubs." Sam laughed, but it sounded hollow. " 'Sides, she knows how many times I've got in trouble for throwing stuff at him. She knows I hate him."

Deciding it was time to try another tack since Sam clearly wasn't having any psycho-babble from her today, Dr. Perking asked her, "Have you tried talking to him?"

"What?" It was another abrupt shift in tone, to confusion this time. Talking must have sounded like a foreign concept to Sam right now.

Josephine had to keep herself from laughing. Kids always wanted the most complicated solutions to their problems. They never thought about the easy approach. "Have you told him that it bothers you that he's always around?"

"Yeah, I tell him I don't want to see his sorry excuse for a face all the time. But he's too busy yapping at Carly's heels like a puppy to listen to me. I keep tellin' him to go away, and he keeps comin' back." Sam had uncrossed her arms while she spoke, and now she flung her hands out to demonstrate her exasperation.

"Have you tried talking to him without being so aggressive?" Josephine knew her word choice was a bad one as soon as she closed her mouth.

"I'm not some daffodil. I'm not gonna cry or beg anybody to leave me alone. Pfft."

"Of course not." She tried to make her tone placating, but someone like Sam would likely see it as patronizing.

And she did. Sam glared at her, and didn't respond as well for the rest of the session, preferring to stare out the small window at the rain as it increased in speed. She didn't need someone telling her how to deal with a problem like a nerd at school. That wasn't a problem. That was just life. Nerds with crushes on Carly would come and go. This one was just persistent.

It had been months now, and her court mandated therapy was rapidly approaching the end. Only a handful of sessions were left before she would have to go visit the judge again. Sam was almost positive that Dr. Perkins wouldn't be clearing her any time soon. She was probably going to recommend those stupid anger management classes too, or even that she went to family counseling with her mom and her sister.

Fat chance.

Her sister was in another state. And there was no way her mom was going to see a therapist. Not after the last one she dated.

For the first time, Sam wondered what Dr. Perkins had in her file. She didn't ask, too annoyed with her for wanting her to _talk _to the king of the nubs. And she probably could have just snatched it away from her of she really wanted to. But that would get her in more trouble. She'd probably get charged with assault or something. So, Sam Puckett exercised a remarkable amount of willpower for one of the first times in her life. She resisted any urge to even glance at her file, and when her time was up, Dr. Perkins offered her an umbrella to get to the bus stop with.

"What's the point," Sam muttered in response. "I'm already soaked. Nothin's gonna change that."

As the door closed behind her with a snap and Josephine Perkins prepared to call a cleaning service for her office, she had a feeling Sam wasn't just talking about the water.

_Really does want help _she scribbled on her trusty legal pad.

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Word Count: 2174

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**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I actually kept forgetting to post this one, thinking I already had it up. I've been writing completely out of order, just writing scenes as they come to me, so I have a lot of much later parts written. Next chapter is almost done though, so you guys can expect that one sooner rather than later. At the point where I am, I have a feeling this might end up being much longer than I had originally planned, so this will probably go much further than NaNoWriMo too. **


	4. Chapter 4

Click. Click. And the door was open.

"Alright, Jo. I'm on time, and I'm ready to start," Sam drawled, strolling into the room.

Dr. Perkins looked up in surprise, her trusty pen poised over the ever present legal pad in her lap. She had been so focused on the other teenage girl on the couch in front of her that she hadn't even heard the tell tale signs of Sam picking the lock.

"You're half an hour early," she said, gesturing to the girl who sat on the couch, arms crossed, legs splayed, her baggy jeans making it look like she was wearing a skirt.

"What?" Sam looked down at her watch, clearly surprised. "Huh, I guess when I don't have detention, it really helps out with the commute." She looked back over at the girl on the couch who was now fingering a tattoo above her left eyebrow. The girl was in the defensive position, not at all comfortable in the room, or with Sam barging in.

"First time?" The girl nodded. "Good, so you can leave, cause you'll be back next week anyway." The other girl cocked her head to the side. "Go on, scram. This is my last one." Not needing to be told twice, the other girl scuttled from the room like a crab avoiding a seagull on the beach.

"Sam, you don't get to decide when your session starts, you know that."

"Please, like you really need any more time with her today to know that she doesn't want to talk to you, she's hostile, and she's probably just gonna keep getting in trouble. Isn't that just like everyone who comes in here?" She slammed the door shut, plopped down on the couch, and grabbed the jar on the table. It was still lacking in the sugary sweets department, but at least it wasn't empty this week. Inside were sticks of salty pretzels. She set it in her lap, not sure if she wanted one or not.

Dr. Perkins stood, placing the legal pad in her hands in a drawer at her desk, and pulled out a fresh one. She didn't think she would need it. She had already filled out all of Sam's paper work; all that was missing was the signature from herself and the judge, finalizing Sam's completion of her mandated therapy sessions. It was unlikely that she was going to learn anything new.

Not that she had learned that much. She knew that when Sam felt threatened, or bored, she lashed out. Sam was the kind of person who seemed to run at full speed. She was either on or off; there was no middle ground. Sam didn't like to talk about her family, though she would more than happily talk about Carly or Spencer, whom she spent most of her time with. Any mention of her sister was only to reiterate that Melanie was the daffodil of the family. She would eat during the more awkward talking points. And she was quick to point out that she wasn't stupid; she just didn't mind letting other people think that. There were clear issues of abandonment and insecurity, but Sam was a master at steering the conversation away from the things that she didn't want to talk about. Or at talking about the inconsequential until her time for the week ran out.

"So, Sam, last session." The doctor returned to her chair, placing the fresh legal pad and pen in her lap, just in case.

"Yep."

"You excited?"

The now thirteen-year-old girl shrugged her shoulders in response. "Guess I'll have an extra hour a week to eat ham now," she joked half-heartedly.

"Or you could use that extra half hour to squeeze some studying in to your oh so busy schedule." Josephine's tone was wry and just a little sarcastic, just enough to make Sam smile. "But seriously Sam, why don't you tell me about some of the progress you think you made over the last few months?"

"Well, I didn't give any nubs a wedgie this month... and when I got in fights, I didn't draw any blood... and I don't think I've had detention as much?" Sam fiddled with the lid on the jar in her lap before she pulled out a handful of pretzels and popped one into her mouth. Pretzels were not her favorite snack food, but they would do in a pinch.

"So, you haven't been getting into as much trouble while you've been visiting me," Dr. Perkins prompted, her legal pad and her pen untouched in her lap.

"I guess." Again, Sam shrugged. "But, you know, if I have more than thirty detentions in a quarter, my mom has to come in for a meeting, and I don't won't Principal Franklin to have to deal with _that._" She broke a pretzel stick into several pieces while she spoke, before tossing them into the air, and catching them on her tongue, just as she had at the very first session with the jelly beans.

"Does your mom not get along with your school principal?"

"I think you should be asking if my mom gets along with anyone," she shot back. "She doesn't have great people skills." There was a pause during which Dr. Perkins raised one eyebrow, which prompted Sam to roll her eyes. "Yeah, I know. Shocking, considering the daughter she's got."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to, Jo. It's no secret that stupid people are boring, and I don't like to be bored."

"Fair enough."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes while Dr. Perkins tried to decide which part of their final session to approach next. Generally, she would discuss the value in keeping a journal, or maybe in the case of someone with Sam's probable talent, a sketchpad. But Sam hadn't been very receptive to that idea in the past. She'd also usually have a patient list out their goals for her. And though she had a feeling she was going to regret it, she thought that would be the best way to go with Sam.

"Sam, why don't you tell me where you want to be in five years?"

"Uh, is that a trick question? Cause I'm pretty sure I'll be in my last year or high school... unless I flunk."

"It's just an exercise, Sam. It might help you keep up with your good behavior-"

Sam snorted.

"-your relatively good behavior, if you make a list of goals for the future."

"I don't know, Jo. Five years is a long way off." Sam slid off the couch, and onto the floor, dumping a pile of pretzels onto the coffee table. She felt that it was only fitting she leave Jo a picture this last time, just like she had during their first time together.

"Alright, let's start with something simpler. What's one thing you want to accomplish today?"

"I gotta give Frothy his flea medicine."

"So, the goal is?" Dr. Perkins prompted.

"To give him his medicine without ending up with claw marks all over my face." Sam shifted a few pretzels around on the table, then bit a few more in half.

"Okay... how about a more personal goal for this week?"

"Uh... not to get detention?" Sam shrugged, crossing her legs under the table, and focusing all of her attention on the pretzels in front of her instead of the doctor.

Making goals was apparently something they should have taken a swing at earlier in their sessions. Because Sam didn't seem to want to try very hard. It was more like she was reciting what she thought she was supposed to say.

"Okay, we could take that a step further."

"How?"

"You could not get detention for physically hurting any... what did you call them... nubs."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah, okay, Jo." She shook her head in amusement, rolling a pretzel stick between her thumb and forefinger. "And who's going to make sure I make the goal?"

"You are." Dr. Perkins waited patiently for those words to sink in, the legal pad and pen now tucked securely at her side with her hands resting comfortably on the arms of her chair. But Sam didn't show any recognition at the idea, just kept pushing her pretzels around on the table. "I want you to start setting goals for yourself, Sam. I think having something to focus on will be good for you."

"Goals, like what? You want me to go to college, get a good job, stay out of trouble, all that. Tell me the truth, Jo. You think I'm all good? Clean bill of health? Don't need to go to juvie?"

"I don't think you need to go to juvie, Sam, no."

"Why not? I beat people up. I'm loud and obnoxious and mean and I don't care about the law or authority, right?"

It appeared that now that they only had about twenty minutes left, they were finally getting somewhere. "Is that really how you think people see you? As a mean person who doesn't care about anyone else?" Sam didn't answer her, so Dr. Perkins decided to do something she didn't normally do with the patients she had to go to court over. She told her the truth _before_ she talked to the judge. "What I really think, Sam, is that you're loud because you aren't used to people really listening to you. I think you hurt people so that you don't get hurt. And I think you care so much that it's easier for you to pretend that you don't. I think you get in trouble because it's a simpler route for you than being good. It's comfortable because that's what everyone in your family does; you know what to expect with trouble. I don't think you're bad. I think you were dealt a crappy hand and you're just trying to find your way to the end of the game without losing everything."

Sam crushed two of the pretzels between her fingers while she slowly shook her head. "You gotta lot of faith in a kid you barely know." She sighed, and neither of them spoke for a while. All Sam could hear in the room was the ticking of the clock and the squeaking of the springs in Josephine's chair.

Dr. Perkins, on the other hand, was focused on Sam's breathing. It was faster than normal, like she was preparing to run. She didn't want her to run. This was her last session, and she was letting the judge know that she thought Sam attending school and being with her friends was going to be more beneficial than being on lockdown in an orange jumpsuit. She just needed Sam to see that too.

"Tell you what Sam, you give me one _real_ thing you want to accomplish by the time you're eighteen, and I'll let you leave early, turn in all your paperwork tomorrow, let the judge know you passed with flying colors." Dr. Perkins waited while Sam thought about the offer.

After licking salt from her fingers, Sam said, so low that Dr. Perkins wasn't sure this was really what she wanted her goal to be, "I don't want to end up in prison." She paused, and that could have been that, but Sam continued, "it's not that I don't think I could handle it. I could. I'm tougher than I look. Juvie was easy for me. But... I know what it's like for people's friends once they end up in jail like that. I don't want to worry Carly or Spencer, you know? They're kind of soft. I don't think they'd get over it. Plus, there wouldn't be anyone around to remind my mom that her clothes are too small for her. And my sister wouldn't have anyone to blame when she 'loses' her homework when she comes home for vacation. And who would take care of my cat?"

"You don't want to let them down." The words hung in the air until Dr. Perkins was sure Sam was done with her pretzel picture. "Alright Sam, it looks like we're all done here. I'm going to let the judge know that I don't consider you a danger to society or yourself, and that you don't have to see me once a week anymore, okay?" She stood, leaving behind her blank legal pad in her chair, and even shook Sam's hand as she walked her out. "You can call me anytime, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam knew, from her vast experience in the world of adults, that those were just words adults said to make you feel like you could count on them. Not all adults meant them. And Sam's 'yeah, sure' telegraphed that to Dr. Perkins loud and clear.

"I mean it Sam. You get in trouble, or you need someone to talk to, anything, you've got my card. You can call anytime."

Sam just nodded and left the doctor to her paperwork. "See ya around, Jo," She called from the outer office.

Not half an hour later, Josephine Perkins received a phone call from the Seattle Police Department on behalf of one Samanth Puckett. She was being detained for assaulting a homeless person in the parking lot of the therapist's office. She could hear the little girl yelling from the other side of the line "it was self defense, you moron! He tried to steal my backpack!"

Sighing, Dr. Perkins retrieved Sam's paperwork from her file and made a few notes.

_Subject is highly resistant to change. It is the recommendation of this doctor that she remain in scheduled therapy sessions for another six months. It is best not to disturb her current routine until further progress is made. She shows a concern for those closest to her, and an awareness that many of the actions she has taken can hurt them. She is not in any danger of becoming a sociopath, but all of her violent episodes come with clever excuses. Juvenile detention would only be a hindrance to her developmental process. _

"Same time next week, Sam."

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Word Count: 2410

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**A/N: At this point, with as much writing as I've done out of order, this is probably not going to be done this month. Chances are, it's going to go well beyond my NaNoWriMo word count goal. And since the series finale aired tonight, I'm considering just writing this to coincide with the entire series rather than stopping where I had originally planned. Which as I put that into words sounds like a monumental undertaking. I'm having a lot of fun with some of the other sections I've done that run alongside different episodes, so I think that might be the case. I apologize that this story might go on for a very long time, but hey, at least there will be lots to read. Also, if you're interested, and since I think analysis is always the way to go rather than heated arguing, and because I saw a lot of interesting talk around the internet tonight after the finale aired on the east coast, I compiled, as best I could straight through off the top of my head, my thoughts on the love triangle of the show and posted it to my live journal account. I found the finale really interesting. And I hope all of you guys did as well. I'm aiming for a chapter of this a week now, but no promises, especially since I have a few one shots for other fandoms started that I haven't gone back to as well.**


	5. Chapter 5

This could be the first time ever that Sam was excited to go to a therapy session. Dr. Perkins could see the slight bounce to her step and the barely suppressed grin on her face when she came into the office.

"Did you get the link I sent you, Jo?"

"I did." Dr. Perkins offers a slight smile to Sam, encouraging her excitement further. "You didn't tell me that you and Carly were going to be starting your own webshow."

"We weren't. We didn't do it on purpose." Sam shrugged as she sat in her customary spot in the middle of the couch, but the loud pop of her gum that followed and the grin that spread from ear to ear betrayed her attempt at nonchalance.

"How do you accidentally start a web broadcast?" Josephine needled. Her hands were folded in her lap. After more than seven months of talking with Sam, it was rare for her to take too many notes during their sessions anymore. She typically decompressed afterwards with a cup of coffee.

"Well... Briggs 'punished' Carly, and since Carly was really taking the blame for something that I did – I know it was wrong, but – Carly had me help her out. She had us video tape all of the kids who wanted to be in the school talent show. Freddie, you know, that nub from school, he was supposed to upload all of the videos to an account for Briggs to watch. But Fredbag-"

"Sam, we talked about name calling."

"Yeah, I know. It's juvenile. Pretty sure I'm a _juvenile _delinquent though, right?" Sam raised her eyebrows, waggling them comically.

"Sam." Dr. Perkins kept her voice stern, but she was smiling too.

"Besides, you said it's healthy to express my creativity, right? So... I'm being creative and coming up with as many different names for Freddie as I can." She laughed. "It's fun."

Josephine sighed, and closed her eyes briefly. There were some habits that Sam was never going to break, no matter how hard she tried, but at least she could say she made an attempt.

"So, like I was saying, _Freddie_ uploaded the video of everything he edited out instead... all the stuff with us making fun of Briggs and junk, and people liked that one. I mean, I guess we're funny." Sam shrugged again, trying to downplay all of it. "Briggs didn't like any of the kids who could do cool stuff, so we figured we'd put them online instead... And now we're gonna try to do a new webshow every week with us being funny and interviewing people and stuff like that."

Sam kicked off her shoes, stretching out fully on the couch, hands propped behind her head like she was relaxing at home. Once she found a comfortable position, she arched her back and pointed her toes, her joints emitting a series of pops and crackles. Sam sighed with relief, and waited for the inevitable questions. It was the doctor's job to get her talking. At least this week she had something fun to talk about instead of the kid she got put in detention for beating up, or how she was sick of taking cold showers because her mom forgot to pay the water bill again, or how she was now having weekly meetings with Mr. Franklin at school just like she was with the good doctor here.

"I noticed you called the show 'iCarly.' Did you all decide on that?"

"Yep."

"Really? Not Carly and Sam?"

"Nah. Then I'd _really_ have to do it every week." Sam laughed, and went on, "Freddie came up with it." Her laugh cut off with a snort. "Not a surprise. The 'i' is for internet. And since her name's in the title, Carly's gonna do most of the work."

"I see." Dr. Perkins smiled, now following Sam's logic. She would hesitate to classify the teen as lazy, but she was not above finding a way to do as little work as possible.

"Yeah? Well, we've got a ton of ideas already. We're having people send us funny videos too. There's this one girl who can almost twist herself into a little pretzel. It's awesome!"

Sam's eyes were shining, and she was almost bouncing in her reclined position, hands now flying through the air as she spoke. This was the first time Dr. Perkins could remember seeing her in a truly good mood, and she hoped that meant the web show was going to be a good outlet for Sam. Her therapy sessions had been tempering her anger somewhat, but based on the amount of detentions she was still getting, it wasn't stopping her from pulling pranks or getting into arguments at school. And the teen was right about the doctor encouraging her to express her creativity. Josephine had noticed, aside from Sam's thrumming out rhythms to songs only she could hear, and pictures made out of food, that Sam also tended to draw to distract herself from the conversation at hand. If it wasn't a subject she wanted to talk about, she would often wander through the office, picking up pens and legal pads as she did, before sitting herself in what looked to be an uncomfortable position on the back of the couch or the floor in front of the desk, and sketching with surprisingly light strokes of the pen. She never took the drawings with her, so Dr. Perkins now had a collection of drawings stashed in Sam's file. The file Sam still hadn't asked about contained a rough drawing of Carly and Spencer cooking in their kitchen. There was one of Sam's cousin getting a tattoo. There was one of Sam's mom sleeping in an overstuffed arm chair...

"Did your mom watch the show?" Dr. Perkins mind had settled on that image of the woman in a tiny bikini and a leather jacket, eyes closed, head leaned back, mouth open, a table of old takeout containers and pizza boxes scattered on the bottom of the page along with high heeled shoes and unpaid bills. Sam rarely had anything good to say about her mother, but her picture was much more detailed than any of the others.

"-and then, I've got this idea for this thing with Spencer – What? Why would my mom watch?" Sam's animated hand gestures halted, and her wide eyes squinted at the ceiling in confusion.

"Didn't you tell her that you would be doing a webcast with Carly?"

"Uh... I don't think so. Why would I tell her?"

"Well, Sam, she's your mom. I know you find her... difficult... but, she's still your mom. She goes to meetings at your school with your teachers, right? And she used to come to your pageants when you were little, right?"

Sam froze. "I thought we agreed not to talk about the pageants. That was a dark time in my life," she deadpanned. The toes of her left sock dancing against the arm of the couch betrayed her discomfort.

"Sam-"

"My mom only came to the pageants cause she made me enter them!" Sam shook her head vigorously. "And she only shows up to meetings at school if she has to. Principal Franklin doesn't usually make her come anymore." Sam stopped shaking her head to shrug. "I didn't tell her. Didn't really think about it."

"Do you think she would have liked the show though? All those talents?"

Sam hesitated, carefully thinking through her response with pursed lips. "Maybe. I mean, she likes dancing and music and stuff." Sam laughed then, but it rang hollow. "She probably would have wanted to know why I wasn't tapping, or if we would get any money from the show though... It's not a big deal if she doesn't see it."

"Did you tell your sister about the show? You still email her every week, right?"

"Yes, I've been emailing her like you told me to, having someone else to talk to and all that... And yeah, since I always run out of stuff to say other than telling her about mom, I told her about the show." Sam's smile was genuine. "Mel thought it was pretty cool. She said the milk guy was gross, but she said everything else was cool." Sam tapped one of her shoes against the couch. "She said she's going to watch every week as long as we do the show."

"Well, that sounds good. You and Melanie will have more topics to discuss now, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I'll send her some of my ideas, see what she thinks?"

"I think that sounds like a great idea."

Sam's hands went back behind her head, and her feet went back to their restful position against the arm of the couch while she began to run down her list of ideas for the show. She already had a very long one, it seemed, without having even spoken with Carly about them. Before Dr. Perkins knew it, their hour had come to an end, and Sam was sliding her shoes back on and stealthily planting her bubblegum on the inside lip of a vase of flowers. She wasn't sure if the girl did it just to see if she could get away with it, or if she was testing the doctor's observation skills.

"See you next week, Jo."

"Yes, you will Sam. And I'm sure your gum will still be there too, because I am not touching something that was in someone else's mouth."

"Stay classy, Doc," Sam retorted with a smirk, and bounced out the door.

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Word Count: 1644

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**A/N: I apologize for the extremely long delay for those of you reading this. I was very sick for over a week, and pretty much did nothing but sleep and eat soup. Missed an entire week of work, and I've been trying to make up for it by picking up extra shifts. So, my writing has been even more out of order and sporadic than usual, part of the reason this chapter is so short. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.**


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